Tomorrow I fly to Augusta, GA to watch the Masters — apparently a holy event for those who are into good walks spoiled, as Mr. Twain once wrote. I don’t now, and haven’t in the past, watched golf. Ever. My grandmother used to watch it on television and it looked glacial in its whispered pace.
I do not golf. I do not like golf. I tried, approaching the game in the early 90s out of curiosity, but quickly losing interest due to:
- Ineptitude
- Lack of patience
- Loathing of the clothing
- Ineptitude
- The time sink
- The rules
- The attitudes
- Embarassment
I am quasi-left handed, which I think accounts for my ineptitude. I say “quasi-” because I eat and write southpaw, but I play sports (throw ball, swing a hockey stick) like a rightie. I think I was doomed out of the gate, something pointed out to me in a golf lesson by an exasperated pro.
So tomorrow I get to stroll down the sylvan fairways of the last bastion of CEO testosterone and whisper while guys competiting for a green blazer spank the Spaulding and tap the Titelist. I will promise to be on my best behavior.
Maybe take your clam rake along?
Come on! It’s the Masters, the stanley cup of golf. I have heard it’s a blast, good parties. Never been, yet though.
Get yourself on TV… run out on the fairway & grab Tiger’s drive off #8, plenty of woods to duck into afterwards
i would just get drunk …. try to endure it …
As a ball touches down near the 18th hole,, strip down naked, dash out onto the green grab the ball, run to the hole,spike the ball in, then shout “Jesus made me do it, Tiger!”
Do it for the children, yiou know you want to!
Do it for all of us.
Jim